Back To December
by IzzieXDiyanah
Summary: Not two days before her death, I'd told Lucian, "When she comes home, I'll win her back. I'll do it right this time. I'll love her right." January was about to make an appearance, but going back to December became my life.


**A/N: I'd like to say thank you to Taylor Swift for inspiring me with her song, Back To December. And to all hardcore MI fans, I'm sorry. I hated Jocelyn and Valentine. Don't hate me. Do enjoy, though. 3 R&R please!**

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I haven't been keeping track of the date for a long time now. I don't think I even know what day it is. I just sort of go through life in a numb, almost lifeless state. Rather like vampires, I should think, although I'm pretty sure that even those things have more life than me which is ironic since they are, technically, walking, talking, not quite breathing cadavers. I don't remember yesterday even happening. Pathetic, huh? The great Valentine Morgenstern, the supposed golden boy, the one with the overwhelming numbers of admirers and supporters doesn't have a life anymore. Well, you know what? I'm quite content to continue being dead because for all I know, that's what I truly am. Dead.

And don't misunderstand me. I don't actually think I'm really dead. Every morning, I wake up to see the sun blaring in my eyes. It's as if it deliberately lets those few rays shoot into my room to blind me. Every night, before I fall into something which can't even be called sleep, I hope that someone―_anyone_―would come into my room and take my life. I wouldn't even be angry that he'd murdered me. I think I would even track him down just to give him a pat on the back for doing me such a huge, wondrous favour. But every morning, I find myself waking up to the same blinding sunlight and I continue hoping that I might die. And still, every day, I live.

So I stopped caring. For the first few months after _her_, I still kept a calendar and a watch and anything that would help me tell the time. But then I started falling into this unfeeling death and I threw everything out. I just came home from a kill one night and started throwing out everything in my room. If I had been able to lift my bed and if there was even a small possibility that it would've fit through my window, I would've thrown it out, too. I guess I should be grateful for small favours, though, because if the big guy up there―yes, I'm talking about Him―had given me the type of superhuman strength it would've taken me to lift my very sturdy looking four poster bed and send it flying into my backyard, I would be sleeping on the floor now. I think that I even frightened my mum that night. On normal circumstances, hearing her screams of terror would've eaten me up alive, but like I'd said, I simply stopped caring.

I hardly ever speak to my mother since then on. I'm pretty sure she's forgotten that she actually had a son. In fact, I'm sure half the people in this godforsaken town has forgotten about me, Valentine Morgenstern, who was supposed to have gone out and done amazing things for the Shadowhunter community. Well, I showed them, didn't I?

Jocelyn still comes out here every day to see me, though. I don't know why she does it, but she does and although I appreciate it, I feel like murdering her sometimes. I salute half of the town for forgetting about me, but I get angry at the other half of the population for still having me in their thoughts. Why can't they grasp the fact that I want to be alone? Jocelyn was a nice kid, though. She's eighteen now and a real beauty. I'm certain that Lucian has got his eyes on her and I can understand why. She wasn't the typical girl. Not even in the least bit. If she had come into my life sooner, I think I would've liked her, too.

_Ah, speak of the devil,_ a little voice in the back of my head sounded. And that little voice was right. Just when I was thinking about Jocelyn, she actually turned up. I can see her stretching out her arm to press that little button that would send a ring echoing all throughout my house, and I can feel myself deflating. I steeled myself to hear that ugly, ringing sound, but after five seconds―and I'm certain that five seconds is enough time for her to ring the doorbell―I heard nothing. She'd looked up at the direction of my window at the last minute and saw that the curtains had finally been drawn open. I looked at her and even from this far away, I could tell the smile that was creeping onto her lips. She'd once said that that smile was saved especially for me. And she'd said this in front of Lucian. I never really put two and two together, but I suppose that's why he stopped visiting me. He probably hates me for stealing his dream woman, though I wonder what business he had lusting after sixteen year olds at that time. Wasn't that illegal or something?

He'd probably die if he found out that the object of his affections was here right now, standing at my front door, gesturing towards that solid piece of oak wood for permission to enter. Oh, wow, I actually noticed that she was asking for entrance. I gave her a small nod, hoping that she wouldn't see it and think that I was ignoring her but somehow knowing that the exact opposite would happen, and sure enough, half a second later, she pushed the door open and stepped in. I know that I should've stepped out of my room and went down to greet her or something. She could be standing in the foyer right now, waiting for me to come down the stairs and escort her into what was now mother's parlour. She'd figure out soon enough that I wouldn't be coming, however, and she'd find her own way here. The important thing now was that it was snowing outside. And it was a painful reminder to the one thing that I did remember. It was December.

"Hey," Jocelyn's voice was heard just as I heard the door squeak open. Apparently, she'd figured out the whole I'm-not-coming-out-of-my-room thing fairly quickly.

I got out of my seat and turned around to look at her, trying my best to smile, noting that her fiery red hair was in stark contrast to the shade of brown I remembered so well. As soon as that thought came to my mind, however, I instantly felt like giving myself a good, hard smack in the face. If there was even a vague possibility that I could've reached the back of my head and smacked it, I would prefer that over my face. Of course it was a heck of a lot more different than the brown hair I remembered because that brown hair was never Jocelyn's. She'd always been a red-head. And so, after berating myself in my own mind, I replied, "Hey."

She started smiling again and ran a hand through her hair. "I heard about the whole Greater Demon thing. I mean, how you and a couple of others battled it and stuff."

"Yeah." I did? When in the world did I battle a Greater Demon? Yesterday? The day before? Last week? Well, no. It couldn't have been any of the latter times because if it had happened on that day, she'd have talked about it ages ago. So it must've been yesterday. Suddenly, I was painfully aware of the throbbing pain in my right shoulder.

"So how was it?" She started asking. I saw the little sparkle in her eyes and recognised it for what it truly was. Admiration. Adoration. Possibly love. I remember when I saw that sparkle in another set of eyes. I remember when I myself had it.

I shrugged, pushing away both her question and my thoughts. Jocelyn wouldn't let it go, though, and asked me a second time. And a third time. "It was fine. I don't really remember it," I replied, which was kind of true. It was fine because, obviously, I'm not dead and I don't really remember because, well, I actually really don't remember anything about a battle with a Greater Demon.

I suppose Jocelyn picked up on my discomfort and changed the subject, probably thinking that it was post traumatic stress disorder or something. "It's pretty outside, isn't it?"

"Mhm. December." But even as I said it, I felt my insides being slashed by the type of red hot blade that I would normally use on demons. This is a reminder that she's dead and I'm not, I guess. I don't think the dead can feel pain anymore. I don't think they can feel heartbreak anymore. "Listen, Jocelyn. I know you've only been here for…what? Five minutes?" She started to open her mouth, wanting to speak, obviously knowing where this was going, but I cut her off. "But could you leave, please? I need some time on my own." Her mouth opened again. I almost smiled when I thought about the protest she was going to make. It would most definitely start with a _'But, Valentine…'_. "I'm feeling sore all over. My shoulder is aching on an other worldly level." And, technically, I wasn't lying.

She sighed, like she always does when I ask her to leave. "Fine. But I'm coming back tomorrow, okay? And you can't throw me out."

I just nodded. I knew that she meant it when she said that she'd come back again tomorrow and I also knew that she was going to come here the next day and the day after the next day and the day after that, but I'd find a way to get her out. I always did. I watched her leave my room and when she finally reached the front door, I watched her leave the compounds of my house. It was then that I saw the bright, green scarf she had wrapped around her neck. I felt as if someone had shoved against me―_hard_―and I actually took a step back. Her face might have been different. Her hair might have been different and her eyes might have been different, but that green scarf was the same.

And then, as if possessed by something I grabbed my coat and went running out of the house. My brain had no idea where I was going, but my legs needed no direction. I just kept running and running and running. It felt like I had been running forever, like there was something chasing me and I just couldn't stop moving. I was like a protagonist in a horror movie, running away from the psychotic spirit trying to murder him in cold blood. The only difference was that I wasn't screaming hysterically because if there was anything that my training as a Shadowhunter had taught me, then it was this: screaming tended to give away your position.

Like insanity had already taken over me, I decided that I was going to keep running and not stop. _Never_ stop. But, as in the nature of not well thought of plans, something always hinders you and in my case, it was exhaustion. After running for what could've been hours, my legs simply gave out underneath me and I went tumbling across the snow covered ground. I started to get up, but then felt a wet streak across my cheek. And then I just started laughing. I hadn't cried since I was twelve―and knowing that just made me laugh harder, and I started thinking that maybe insanity truly had taken over me. Then I thought that since I was already insane, I might as well just lie on the ground and freeze myself to death. I already thought myself as dead anyway, so what's the harm of truly being?

So I laid there, staring up at the grey sky. Two years ago, when I was fanciful, even though I knew and learned science, I thought that the sky turned such an ungodly colour because it was sad for me. I don't think that anymore. The sky turns grey because it turns grey. It's not sad for me. It isn't a living thing and it has no feelings. Why would it be sad for me? Anger began to build up in me again. Stupid sky, I thought to myself. And seeing as how I'd manifested my anger towards the sky in the word stupid in that thought, I looked away from it, and found myself looking at a lake. I'll admit that it was a frozen lake, but at that moment, there was nothing more beautiful. I used to come to a lake just like it.

"I love you," she'd whispered to me. My heart swelled to twice its normal size at the thought of that particular memory. Well, no, that was a lie. It swelled to a size much bigger than that and I thought that it was going to somehow burst out of my chest. In the back of my mind, I remembered that if my heart actually did explode out of my chest, I'd die, but I didn't give it too much thought because the same brain that was making me think that was also making me see her and what I used to be.

It was December and it was dead winter, but she refused to put on her coat, insisting instead that I chase her around our lake until I was breathless, trying to put it on her. "If you can catch me, I'll put on the coat and never stop telling you that I love you," she screamed at me from the other side of the water-filled, circular shape in between us.

"How about you make my life easier and get over here?" I called out, smirking because I knew very well that she would never give in so easily. I heard her laugh and continued, "It could keep me from dying, you know." She laughed again and started to make her way to me, but stopped herself after taking two steps. I felt myself smile as she retraced those two steps back to her original spot. "Oh, come on. I really could die. I could run out of breath and turn blue right at your feet."

"But I don't want to," was her reply.

I sighed loudly and deliberately, just so she'd hear it. The silence was not unlike the one you'd experience at a cemetery. There was no one about, and even the wind wasn't blowing by like it normally did. It was a beautiful, sunny winter day. It was still slightly chilly out, though, which was the prime reason I was trying to make her put on her coat. The other, more unimportant reason was because I'd bought her the coat and I wanted to see how she looked in it. But, if it wasn't already obvious by now, come hell or high water, she wasn't going to put it on. "Well, at least wrap that scarf about your neck," I told her, pointing to a bright green scarf she'd hung on a low branch before I'd begun chasing her.

She gave into that wish at the very least, and for the rest of the day, I didn't have to chase her once, but still heard her telling me that she loved me once every fifteen seconds.

Oh, yes, I counted.

However, not two weeks later, I ceased hearing those three words anymore. I'd been on a mission, if you will, for four days in Germany. When I was there, I'd met and kissed some woman whose name I didn't even remember. We'd just made a great breakthrough in Shadowhunter-Downworlder relations and we were happy and we partied and I got drunk and I kissed her, whoever she was. I hated myself and I begged my friends not to tell her, but the minute we got back, Stephen, who happened to be her neighbour, told her about it. I came by her house that night and knocked on the door, asking her mother for her, but she didn't even want to look at me. I got so desperate that I did the most cliché thing ever―I threw rocks at her window.

I didn't speak to her for another week. She couldn't keep avoiding me, however, and one evening, I caught her. The deal between us was that if I could catch her, she'd never stop telling me that she loved me. So I caught her and held her close to my person, kissing the top of her head. "Alright, I caught you," I whispered in her ear.

"The deal's off," she said.

I swear, I must've gone stupid at that moment or something of that sort because when I heard her say that, the first thing I said was, "_Why_?" She turned towards me and by her posture, anyone would've thought that she was angry, and there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that she was, but the look in those beautiful blue eyes was not rage. It was hurt. And I knew that she'd found out. "It was an accident. It meant nothing." The words slipped through my lips before I could even form a thought.

"Do you know what I don't understand, Valentine? Hmm?" She looked like she was about to cry and it was as if the whole world was crumbling all around me. "You tell me that you love me, and then you go and kiss someone else?"

"It was an accident. It meant nothing." The only thing I seemed capable of saying was that one stupid sentence.

"I don't want to love you anymore."

My arms went slack about her. The world crumbled again, and not another word was spoken between us. Since that night, I went through each day of my life hoping―_praying_, really―that she would say something to me, that she would forgive me and find some way to love me again, but it never happened.

And then, a month later, the Clave made an announcement that a few of our Shadowhunters had died in a ridiculous peace mission. I stood there in the square, next to Lucian, wishing that I wouldn't hear something I didn't want to. But I did. Her name was amongst those of the deceased. It was only two days before the news of her death that I told Lucian, "When she comes home, I'll win her back and this time, I'll do it right. I'll love her right."

January was just about to make an appearance, but going back to December became my life.


End file.
